Last week I experienced a flight delay, so I numbed my frustration with a cup full of airport Auntie Anne’s Mini Pretzel Dogs.
The pretzel dogs remind me of the mini-Pigs-In-Blankets my mother made for parties when I was a kid. She used to let me “pop” the Pillsbury Crescent Roll package against the counter and unroll the rolls. We cut each large triangle into four smaller triangles to accommodate for the mini-size of the dogs. …
There is something really unhealthy about our society’s collective fixation with celebrity. We feel like we know people who we’ve never met—and have a right to peer into their private lives.
And yes, I’m guilty of it too . So here’s my story:…
Wouldn’t it be great if every item on your todo list had to do with cheese?
My friend Kate sent this to me and I had to share. It comes from PoorlyDrawnLines.com
Best wishes for a wonderful and cheese-filled 2014.
Rough, terse, and uneven, there was something unsettling and yet familiar about the rough countenance of this sculpture at the Biennale Arte 2013 in Venice. It begged to be poked, stretched, shaped and shaped. I wanted to pick it up, poke it with my fingers, and model it into something more tangible and defined. Help it become whatever it was that it was trying to become.
Then I noticed the name: “Between Confidence And Doubt.”…
It’s ten p.m. Ron and I have just finished another amazing Italian dinner. We stroll back to our hotel holding hands, wading in the silence. When we’re almost home, we stop at the top of a stone bridge. We stare down the canal. The air is cool and the water shines like polished marble.
Arched bridges soften the landscape by breaking the straight line of the canal with wave-like visual rhythm. No boats, no wind, no people, no movement.
This is Cannaregio, the neighborhood where our hotel is, at night. This is my own little piece of Venice….
I’m so CONFLICTED.
I only have two days left here in Venice. I want to get out there and see it all NOW. But I also want to record it in my notebook so I can remember all the little details that I need if I’m going to write about all of this later. I need to note that the natural pistachio ice cream I ate last night\
was the color of peanut butter. And that the black squid ink pasta I ate for dinner tasted almost cheesy—even though there was no cheese in the dish. These are the sorts of details my middle-aged brain is having a harder and harder time remembering….
I wanted to update all of you on the progress of my book. The manuscript of of And Then We Ate Gouda: Scenes from a Cheese-Filled Life, is done. It’s a mini-memoir that celebrates the foods and flavors that punctuate our lives and memories.
I was an unsuspecting child when a grilled cheese sandwich changed my life forever. Who would have known that a single square of American sandwiched between two slices of Wonder Bread and spread with margarine would launch a lifetime of love, adventure, cheese, and cheese-love?…
You know how at every party there’s that one person who scarfs down whole platefuls of hors d’oeuvres while everyone else nibbles
politely? A person who eats so much when they first arrive that they barely have any room left for dinner?
Well, when I go to parties, that scarfer, is me!
I can’t help it. Who wants to wait to eat when something so good is sitting right there on the table? I want to eat it all, and I want it now….
Is it really too crowded in Venice? I say yes—and no.
Yes, it’s hard to get around when there are dozens of people trying to squeeze through the same six-foot wide walkway to get to St. Mark’s Square….